


Imprint (I Was Made For Loving You)

by Jude81, Kendrene



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Clarke, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Eventual Smut, F/F, G!P Clarke, Girl Penis, Girl Penis Clarke Griffin, Hurt/Comfort, Imprinting, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Rituals, Memory Loss, Omega!Lexa, Protective Clarke, feral omega
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-07 20:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10368360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude81/pseuds/Jude81, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: “Just tell me about the mating bite. Will she feel it when it will be gone?”“She will think you dead, but others won’t believe and keep on hunting you.” The Outcast woman sneered, “you have power girl, whether you like it or not.”There was sadness in her reedy voice as well as a hint of irritation, as if Clarke was bothering her with trivial matters. The Alpha didn’t acknowledge either, zeroing in on the fact she’d finally be free of Lexa.“Good,” she croaked out, wisps of the fire’s smoke tickling the back of her throat, “good.”For a fleeting moment she wondered why the tears that streaked her cheeks wouldn’t stop falling.ORThe one where after the betrayal at the Mountain Clarke has the mating bite removed and the link to Lexa severed. Things of course don't go as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We're at it again! This time a shorter fic, purely focused on Clexa. We plan more arcs after this one, so let us know what you will like to see as the story goes on.
> 
> Enjoy the reading.

_ “You may banish Heda’s mark from your flesh, Wanheda, but uprooting what she planted into your heart is an entirely different matter.”  _

_ Clarke stared into the fire with a grimace. _

_ “Do not call me that.” She snapped with an angry shake of her head, startled at how different the movement felt with the hair on the sides sheared almost to the skin.  _

_ Bren grunted, clearly amused. In the uncertain light cast by the open flames. the woman’s face looked as ancient as the trees around them, and the blonde could almost believe the rumors claiming that the woman was a spirit of the forest inhabiting stolen flesh. _

_ “Skai gada then. But that doesn’t change the nature of what you did.” _

_ Clarke bent the twig she’d been playing with, breaking it in half, and tossed it into the fire. _

_ “Just tell me about the mating bite. Will she feel it when it will be gone?”   _

_ “She will think you dead, but others won’t believe and keep on hunting you.” The Outcast woman sneered, “you have power girl, whether you like it or not.”  _

_ There was sadness in her reedy voice as well as a hint of irritation, as if Clarke was bothering her with trivial matters. The Alpha didn’t acknowledge either, zeroing in on the fact she’d finally be free of Lexa. _

_ “Good,” she croaked out, wisps of the fire’s smoke tickling the back of her throat, “good.”  _

_ For a fleeting moment she wondered why the tears that streaked her cheeks wouldn’t stop falling. _

 

*****************

 

It had been six months. 

Six months since Clarke had left the relative safety of Arkadia’s walls for loneliness and the unknown. Six months since she had felt Bellamy’s sad eyes bore into her back as she walked quickly down the path that led into the woods around the Skaikru camp, only a handgun at her side and a satchel of supplies weighing her shoulder. 

It had been six months since she had foregone compartmented time, instead measuring her life by the rising of the sun and the shifting of moon and stars upon the sky. A bit less than that since half heard legends and wandering feet had brought her to the Outcast camp in search of answers.

Clarke wasn’t sure this day was the exact anniversary, but the leaves had begun to turn gold and fiery red and the air held a chill that had been absent just a scattering of days before. The wind blew against her skin with a sharpness not even the sun shining overhead could blunt, and she shivered, hurriedly buttoning up her jacket. 

It would do as well as any other day.

Clarke stretched, stifling a yawn with her fist. She rubbed irritably at the sore spot on the side of her neck. Bren had warned her about the pain, but she had hoped it would have faded now that a few moons had passed. Yet it lingered, at times feeling like a small army of ants was burrowing under her skin. 

If anything her dreams were becoming worse.

Of the young, shattered Alpha that had left Skaikru territory what seemed like a lifetime ago, little remained. At least on the outside, she thought, sparing a distracted glance for her attire.

The gun had been the first thing to go, when Clarke had realized it clearly marked her as an outsider whenever she entered a settlement. Besides there was nowhere to purchase more clips, so after emptying the last of her rounds into an enraged boar she’d crossed paths with, she had abandoned the weapon, using her first kill as a bargaining chip to get her hands on grounder gear at a trading post. 

She patted her knife’s hilt affectionately at the memory, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips while she puttered around the little clearing to break camp. It felt weird on her face, the curving of her mouth unfamiliar, as muscles seldom used obeyed her train of thoughts. Clarke rarely smiled these days, yet remembering Niylah’s face when she had dragged the dead boar inside her shop, had the blonde’s throat quivering with silent mirth. 

The Alpha kicked dirt over the last glowing embers of her small fire then did one last round of the clearing, straightening some rocks she had disturbed during her nightly thrashing and gathering her gear. She walked briskly under the shade of the trees for a moment,  stopping briefly on the bank of a bubbly stream to fill up her canteen. 

Clarke dropped to a crouch at the edge of the water and, catching a glimpse of her reflection, she frowned down at herself. She brushed her fingers across her forehead, wondering if there were more lines on her brow. She shrugged with a grimace, thinking that perhaps the ones that had been there before had just been deepened by grief. The blonde snorted as she dipped her flask into the water, shattering her image into a thousand tiny waves. She may not look a day older than when she’d left, but inside she felt timeworn and bone weary.

She stood and took a sip of water, sloshing it around in her mouth before spitting on the ground to try and get rid of the foul taste that the nightmare had left on her tongue. It didn’t make much difference so she heaved a resigned sigh and tightened the stopper of her canteen, before adjusting the straps holding her gear in place. 

Raising her head to the sky, Clarke took a deep breath, letting the forest seep into her lungs. She could smell deer and boar, perhaps even smaller game. It always amazed her, how sharp her senses had become in the months of self imposed solitude, but she supposed it was normal. 

She loved that here she didn’t have to temper her Alpha’s urges for the forest didn’t care one way or the other. Clarke was just another creature fighting for survival and whether she lived or died, the woods would go on regardless. 

Sliding her shortbow off one shoulder, Clarke reached for an arrow at her waist and nocked it, half pulling the bowstring as she walked deeper into the woods. She decided she would spend the day hunting, but deer not boar. Just because she had made it out alive once wasn’t reason enough to stretch her luck.  

Afterwards she would bring the carcass to Niylah and have it cured. She had put her usual trip to the trader off, unwilling to spend a night at the post while her nightmares were so bad. Her supplies were running dangerously low however, and the approach of the cold season would make it much harder to forage for food. 

The trail left by the deer was easy enough to follow, the clear impression of a hoof on the mossy ground or some fresh droppings telling Clarke where she should go. It was surprising how much hunger could teach you, she mused as she bent to examine the ground. The rest she owed it to Niylah and her father who had been quite happy to fill the gaps in her knowledge in exchange for a steady supply of furs and little odds and ends she’d scavenge from abandoned ruins. 

Of the two, only Niylah had associated the wild Alpha girl that appeared on their threshold every fortnight or so with the fearsome  _ Wanheda  _ however, and Clarke was grateful. Awe had filled Niylah’s eyes at the realization, mixed with pride at having the legendary mountain slayer under her roof and Clarke didn’t think she could bear the same reaction from other people, especially since what the grounders interpreted as power only filled her with shame.

She knew she was being hunted, and she had lived the first few months while looking constantly over her shoulder before she’d finally stopped caring. If something was going to happen it would eventually, and that no matter her precautions. And maybe her nightmares would stop plaguing her every night. 

A sudden rustling several meters up ahead drew Clarke’s attention and she froze, dropping to a low crouch. She silently brought the bow to bear, carefully lining up her shot, and waited for the deer to appear among the bushes. She wasn’t prepared for the barrage of Omega pheromones assaulting her nose, and definitely didn’t expect to see two warriors tumble through the brush, bodies locked in a deadly struggle. Surprise made her almost drop her weapon, and only instinct kept the bow from wavering. 

Clarke couldn’t be sure she knew either of them at that distance, but there was something familiar in the smell of one of them that had her wrinkling her nose with a growl. She watched the two strangers wrestle to the ground, the bigger one striking the other’s head with a stone. The blow was a crippling one and the stricken warrior, a woman Clarke thought judging by size alone, crumbled to the ground, twitching weakly. 

Her assailant loomed over the woman, ready to deal one final blow, a savage howl of triumph ripping from his throat. As he straightened to his full height, bringing an arm back to swing the stone down, Clarke noticed the white stripes edging the front of his coat for the first time and, not realizing what she’d done, she let an arrow loose with a furious snarl. Time slowed to a crawl as the goose fetched dart covered the distance, hitting the warrior’s broad chest with a meaty thud. 

The jagged rock he had been brandishing fell from his grasp and, as his hands rose to grip the quivering arrow shaft, a red flower staining his clothes, time moved forward again with an almost sickening lurch. 

Clarke was on her feet in a flash, eating the ground in quick strides. She watched the man’s legs slowly bend at the knee, before he pitched forward without a sound. She caught fleeting sight of a surprised face, light grey eyes already dimmed by death and then the encounter was over, as suddenly as it had begun. 

The Alpha slowed to a brisk walk, wondering why she’d felt the need to intervene, nevermind that the Azgeda people were no friends of hers. 

Yet a nagging feeling, lodged into her mind like a wooden splinter under her skin, told her something else had prompted her and, as she stared down at the injured warrior she had just saved, the reason became rapidly apparent.

Lexa laid unconscious at her feet, and in a flash of blind rage Clarke grasped the hilt of her knife, baring more than an inch of steel, before nausea and clammy sweat replaced blistering hot fury. Bile rose up her throat, as bitter as betrayal, and she staggered back, clamping a hand over her mouth before turning sharply and retching noisily onto the ground.

Clarke’s stomach cramped over and over again, so viciously that stabbing pain had her bending double, hands pressed to her midriff in an attempt to stave off the spasms. She shuddered, images of the Mountain’s aftermath torturing her mind. When it finally stopped, she took a shaky breath and worked some moisture into her mouth hacking and spitting on the ground to try and rid herself of the bile’s aftertaste. Tears had turned the woods around her into a hazy kaleidoscope of red and yellow-brown and it took her a few more moments, and several labored gasps to finally straighten and turn back towards Lexa. She had to lock her knees not to tumble to the ground again.

Clarke leered down at the unconscious Omega, the hatred that had kept her company during her lonesome nights, flaring like a dying star inside her chest. How ironic that she should have Heda at her mercy now, when she had been ready to lay her own heart at the Commander’s feet just a few months before. And she had, by biting Lexa’s neck and presenting her own to the Omega’s teeth even though their heat and rut had not been in synch. She chuckled, a dry, ugly sound without a drop of amusement in it. At least she hadn’t had the chance to leave pups in Lexa’s womb, a relief as Clarke didn’t want to think about the kind of pain it would have caused 

The Alpha watched Lexa’s chest heave in stuttering breaths, an arrow jutting out from one shoulder. Its shaft had snapped off during the scuffle, or so she guessed, and black blood bubbled slowly around the wound. Clarke knew that, if left untended for long, the wound would kill the Commander, unless the coppery smell of Lexa’s injury didn’t draw a predator first.  

Clarke turned sharply on her heels, ready to set off and leave Heda to her fate, when a pitiful keen left Lexa’s chest, rooting the Alpha on the spot. The sound came again and the blonde had to fight the urge to bring her hands to her ears and cover them. Instead she stood rigidly, arms quivering at her sides, her hands clenched so hard she could feel her nails cut grooves into the skin of her palms. All of her instincts surged forward, demanding that she protect the wounded Omega and the blonde shook her head violently in an attempt to resist the laws of nature. Her jaws clenched shut, and she ground her teeth, enamel cracking with the pressure. 

She didn’t want to care for anything, and least of all for the woman that had caused her so much pain. But her Alpha wouldn’t be denied and ever so slowly she turned, pulled by the invisible strings of her instincts. Strings that still tied her to Lexa. 

Growling, Clarke began to scan the ground for branches sturdy enough to build a litter. She would prove  that, unlike the mighty Heda, she didn’t abandon people in need,  

As she busied herself with work, she couldn’t help but think that her own excuse rang mockingly hollow. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke brings Lexa back to her camp to tend her wounds. She is not prepared for the maelstrom of emotions that stirs within her while she cares for the Commander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! We hope you enjoy the chapter!

By the time Clarke staggered into the half-crumbled building she had been using as her base camp, it was almost dusk.

Getting back had taken longer than she had expected as the litter had frequently snagged on hidden roots and stones, and she’d had to stop a few times to rest her burning muscles and check on Lexa. 

The Omega had not stirred since the fight, and Clarke was relieved she didn’t need to deal with more keening. The sound that had emerged from Lexa’s throat still worried at the edges of her hearing, like a buzzing swarm of bees that she couldn’t swat away no matter how hard she tried. It had left her numb and reeling, cooling her fury down to a simmering heat. She looked at Lexa, repeating the same words she’d said every time she had stopped during the trek back to her camp.

“I hate you.” 

Clarke loathed that the words sounded more like a reassuring mantra for her own benefit than a genuine accusation. She wished there was more fury in her voice, instead of tiredness veined with resignation. 

She crouched next to Lexa, pressing two fingers to the pulse point at her throat. The Commander’s heartbeat was strained, but Clarke had expected worse considering the blood loss. The familiar gesture, one that she had performed countless times when working in the Ark’s medbay under her mother’s tutelage, calmed the storm inside her, and the Alpha slipped into the clinical side of her mind, where there was no room for feelings, only assessment and consequential action. 

First she would need to get the arrow shaft out of Lexa’s shoulder, and after she’d have to clean the wound with alcohol and water. 

She had left supplies in a corner of the shelter, and she went to retrieve a few pieces of firewood, arranging them in the middle of the room, directly under a spot where the roof had caved in so that the enclosed space wouldn’t fill up with smoke. 

It took only a few strikes of her flint before she had a good spark going. Clarke blew gently on it to fan the flames, then added smaller twigs and dry leaves to the budding fire. Soon enough it reached the size she wanted, and she recovered a tin pot she used to cook and  boil her water. Having emptied half of the contents of her canteen inside it, she set it on a flat stone right next to the fire. 

She turned her attention back to Lexa, whom she had left lying on the makeshift litter. Taking a look at the broken arrow jutting from the Commander’s flesh, Clarke decided to remove it before moving the girl to a more comfortable spot. She had thought about doing  it right after the fight, but the length of wood had acted like a stopgap of sorts, reducing the blood flow to a slow trickle. Now that they were somewhere safer it was vital for Clarke take out the arrow, or its sharp head would continue to inflame the tissue around it and ultimately lead to infection

The Alpha knelt next to Lexa, gently rolling her onto her side to look for an exit wound. She had seen Azgeda-made weapons at the trading post, had admired and feared their shafts sometimes covered in barbs made of tender metal and meant to hook into tissue and bone on impact.  Clarke hoped this arrow was different, that removing it wouldn't rip open blood vessels and cause damage that she would have no way of fixing with her limited tools.

There was no sign of the arrow head, so Clarke eased Lexa down and unsheathed the knife at her belt, cutting away at the straps that held Heda’s leather armor in place.

She remembered the first time she had seen Lexa in her war tent, the Omega sprawled on a throne fashioned from gnarled roots that to Clarke had smelled of ancient power, adding to the aura of mysticism surrounding the Commander. Her demeanor had been distant, almost brooding, but when her bright green eyes had speared through Clarke, she had known that Heda was a storm waiting to be unleashed. The Commander had been dressed in black back then, and for a moment Clarke had thought it was in mourning of the three hundred warriors that had burned alive at the Dropship, and a scarlet sash spilled from her shoulder to pool on the floor like fresh blood. The unsubtle symbolism of it had not been lost to the Alpha.

This armor was different than the one Clarke remembered, lighter and more flexible, perhaps designed for scouting and patterned with colors that would easily blend into woodland. It had not served the Commander well, since the arrow had punched clean through the shoulder guard. Once the armor was out of the way, she ripped off the shirt underneath, exposing Lexa’s chest. Clarke tossed the ruined garment away, leaving Lexa in only her blood stained bindings. 

Lexa’s skin looked waxy under the blood, slicked by a thin layer of sweat. Clarke used a clean rag to wipe her knife, then placed it in the tin pot to sterilize the blade. She mopped the blood that had pooled around the wound with a clean strip of linen to better see where she would have to cut. 

She could not risk pulling the arrow out without widening the wound as the gut thread that tied the iron tip to the shaft had probably loosened with the blood and heat of Lexa’s body. If she yanked too hard the arrow head would stay inside the wound, and it would be much harder to recover it, or so Niylah’s father had explained to her. 

Once the blade was sterilized, she wrapped another rag around her hand and carefully lifted it from the water. It was a blessing that Lexa was unconscious, and Clarke hoped she’d stay that way. She didn't want the Omega to wake up and thrash around at the pain to the point of injuring herself further.  For despite the betrayal at the Mountain, Clarke couldn’t quite bring herself to wish any pain upon Lexa. She had once loved the Omega. 

_ Had.  _

_ Had. _

It was such a bitter word and soured in her mouth even as she whispered it to her silent patient. It sounded hollow and angry, and it tasted like a lie.  Her heart picked up its tempo in her chest as if to mock her further, and the taste in the Alpha’s mouth turned to the copper of her own blood when she bit down on her tongue, using pain to push down the beginning of a sob.

The knife whispered along the wound, its edge so sharp Clarke didn’t have to apply much pressure to widen the hole. More blood oozed out and she wiped it away, before probing the gash with a finger as delicately as she could. Still Lexa tensed under the Alpha, and Clarke froze, praying her patient wouldn’t start awake.

The Omega took a shuddering breath, murmuring something Clarke couldn’t quite understand then settled down, and the Alpha exhaled slowly.

Reassured, the blonde resumed her ministrations, following the rounded contours of the wooden shaft with her fingertip. When she felt metal against her skin she grunted in surprise, having thought that the arrowhead would have lodged much deeper into Lexa’s flesh. Perhaps the light armor hadn’t been completely useless after all she mused, sparing a glance for the torn leather she had heaped to the side. 

Ever so gently Clarke grasped the broken shaft with her free hand and slowly began to pull it out, using the finger she’d probed Lexa’s wound with to guide herself. The muscles in her shoulders eased a fraction as the arrow’s tip came into view. She freed it with one last pull, throwing it into the fire without really looking.

Just as she leaned forward to press a folded cloth on the wound, Lexa’s eyes snapped open and a green sea of pain rose up to meet the Alpha’s gaze and drown her with endless agony. The Omega keened, thrashing weakly under her hold, the sound so haunting and sharp against her senses Clarke thought her ears would bleed from it.   

The blonde opened her mouth to say something, shush her maybe, and a soft purr fell from her lips. She tried to clamp her teeth shut around it, chow it to pieces and swallow it back, but the vibration in her chest only grew louder. She watched as nature stripped away her self-control, and she hated Lexa for reducing her to an unthinking beast that responded only to need.  To  _ her  _ need.  And she hated herself because as hard as she tried to silence it, there was a part of her that couldn’t stop caring. 

At some point Lexa had stopped struggling and gazed up to Clarke, apparently watching her, but her eyes were so glossed over by pain and fever that the Alpha could tell she was not really focused on what was around her. Still the keening had stopped, and as the blonde retrieved the knife she had thrust into the open flames, Lexa’s eyes fluttered closed and the Omega fell back into unconsciousness. 

Wasting no time, Clarke eased the pressure she’d kept on the wound and removed the cloth. pushing the flat of the blade, now glowing cherry-red, against Lexa’s flesh. She placed her other hand on the brunette’s uninjured shoulder, pressing down with all of her weight to hold the Omega still in case she woke up again. 

Surprisingly enough she didn’t, but perhaps she was simply too worn out. Clarke felt ready to collapse on the ground too, but she could not allow herself to rest, not yet.  

The Alpha removed the pot from the fire and set it to one side to let the water cool down a little, then stood, grimacing when her joints screamed in protest. 

Niylah had gifted her a number of pelts over the months they’d known each other, and she had subsequently amassed a small collection. Clarke grabbed the softer-looking ones spread them on the ground, then hooked her arms under Lexa’s armpits and dragged her off the litter and on the pelts, trying not to jostle her too much. The blonde told herself she was only making sure the wound she had just treated didn’t reopen, but the lie was stuck in her gullet, a splinter of bone that scratched her throat with bitter truth whenever she swallowed.

The water had cooled to an acceptable temperature so she set out to clean up the rest of the Omega, starting from the gash on her forehead. First she used moonshine to wipe the cut clean then, after making sure it wouldn’t require stitches, she covered it with a layer of medicinal poultice. Grounders used the paste to treat most open wounds and, having tested it herself on several occasions, Clarke knew how well it worked. She spread the remaining liniment on Lexa’s shoulder even though she’d sealed the wound. Goldenseal would help speed up her recovery, while the honey and lavender were good wards against infection as Niylah had told her the one time she’d shown up at the tradepost all cut and bruised after a nasty tumble. 

The sooner Heda healed, the sooner she would be out of Clarke’s sight. 

She didn’t have enough water to properly wash the brunette, but she managed to wipe off most of the grime and blood, removing the rest of Lexa’s clothes as she worked. Suddenly she found she had to stop and look away for a moment, pity at the Commander’s current state too much to bear. The girl laying on the furs was so different from the aloof woman who had turned her back on Clarke at Mt. Weather, that they may as well be two different people. The blonde inhaled sharply through her nose and the realization was driven home by the fact that the familiar Omega musk was turned acidic by Lexa’s suffering. Somehow Clarke couldn’t bring herself to hate this aspect of Lexa nearly as much. 

The Alpha cleared her throat and hastily covered the unmoving Omega with other pelts, making sure she was securely tucked in for the night. 

As she withdrew her hands, her knuckles inadvertently brushed against the scarred bite on Lexa’s neck, and Clarke failed to hold back a small sob. Her own scar had vanished after the Severing, but as her hand touched Lexa’s mating bite the sore spot on her own neck gave a vicious throb, and she clapped her palm over it, growling softly. Her eyes stung with bitter tears and all that she could do was to let them fall, burning hot down her cheeks. They dripped off her face, as copious as spring rain, pattering without a sound on the furs draped over Lexa. Clarke ached somewhere inside, as the hole she had dug into herself and then tried to ignore for months yawned open, bottomless and empty. She wanted nothing more than bury her face in Lexa’s neck, and press her nose to the spot right beneath the brunette’s jaw where she knew the Omega’s scent would be strongest. 

She remembered the first time she’d done so, as she and Lexa waited for the scouts’ reports on the Mountain Men. Clarke had been a bundle of aggression, stalking around Heda’s tent in a perpetual state of impotent fury, growling and snapping at everyone as she acted more like a beast than a woman. 

Until an exasperated Lexa had put a stop to her pacing and squeezed her shoulders firmly to hold her still. Clarke remembered how she’d balked at the unspoken challenge, how she’d ached to put the Omega in her place. Instead Lexa’s scent had filled her nose, saturated every pore of her skin until she couldn’t smell anything but the Commander. And suddenly Lexa’s arms had pulled her in, guiding her so that her face could rest in the crook of the brunette’s neck. She’d smelled like sunlight after a storm, like newborn grass and pine sap, and Clarke had found a little solace. Not long after she had planted seeds of hope in Lexa’s neck and cried with joy as the Omega’s sharp teeth broke her own skin. 

But happiness had been a fleeting illusion, for soon enough Clarke had watched her hope wither, and she had realized  that the dip between Lexa’s jaw and collarbone was nothing more than an arid place where dreams shattered and stars went to die.  

The insistent ache of her knees jerked Clarke back to the present and she huffed, pushing herself to her feet with an annoyed grunt. 

She glanced up at the sky and noted that there was still enough daylight left to make it to the nearby stream and back. A walk would clear her mind and anyway she needed to replenish her water supply and gather more firewood. 

Mind mercifully occupied by practical thoughts. Clarke moved around the camp, gathering her gear and adding the last of the wood to the fire. The flames licked upward greedily, devouring the dry wood, and Clarke checked Lexa one last time before leaving. 

The girl slept peacefully, cheeks slightly flushed with fever, but her pulse was stronger than before and Clarke was confident she’d sleep through the night. Besides the brook was not far, she reassured herself, and she would be back before the moon rose. 

Outside she filled her lungs with the smells of the forest and, patting the knife she’d sheathed at her waist, she began to walk. 

Soon enough her shelter was hidden behind trees, but no matter how fast she walked, Lexa’s scent lingered, seeping underneath her skin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Questions?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa wakes up. They don't have sex. Yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that Kendrene is an amazingly gifted author. I'm constantly in awe of her talent, but also just in awe of her. She is a truly lovely human being, and she's a beautiful smol bean of a Twin, whom I love bunches.   
>  \--Jude

Clarke staggered and cursed, tripping over a hidden root, and the bundle of twigs she was carrying fell to the ground. She whirled her arms desperately, struggling to keep her balance then bent down to rub surreptitiously at her bruised shin. 

The sun had set while she trudged back from the brook, having taken more time than she’d originally thought to cover the distance on the way to the water. Clarke had badly misjudged how tired she was, and now she paid the price dearly. Her thighs were burning with every step, and her back hurt from having pulled the litter for so long.

The blonde sighed and worked her neck loose with a soft pop, before scanning the ground for the fallen bundle. It took her a few minutes to spot it, since it had rolled a little downslope stopping against the trunk of a tall fir where the evening shadows already gathered into night. 

She recovered the twigs then started back uphill, panting slightly. Exhaustion dogged her every step, but the thought of a warm fire and some food in her belly strengthened her resolve to reach the shelter as soon as possible. 

The Alpha had gathered some edible roots and mushrooms on her way to the stream and along with some of the smoked meat she had in her supply stash, they’d make a nice stew. Clarke also knew she’d have to cook something lighter for Lexa, and made a mental note to put out snares before sleep. With some luck she’d catch a rabbit or two, and they would have meat for broth. Still she’d have to take the trip to Niylah as soon as the Omega’s condition improved and replenish her stocks. 

That thought brought a smile to her face. Perhaps she’d take Lexa with her if she was well enough to travel and leave her at the trading post. Niylah would certainly borrow a horse for her Heda, and that way the brunette wouldn’t be Clarke’s problem any longer. 

An eerie keen she recognized all too well sliced through the evening’s quiet, and all other sounds ceased around her, the night itself holding its breath. For a moment hope fluttered in her chest at the thought it had been her imagination, or a trick of the wind, but the sound came again, stronger and more desperate. 

The Alpha broke into a half run, cursing heatedly at the branches snagging her jacket, feet skidding on the uneven ground.

Her mouth fell open and she swallowed great gulps of the night’s air, trying to separate the hundreds of scents carried by the wind. She had tried not to leave many tracks, but she was sure that the litter had dug enough furrows on the ground for a good tracker to follow. Clarke didn’t know why Azgeda warriors would hunt Lexa, since she remembered that at the Mountain they had been taking orders from Heda like any other clan, but the one she had killed could easily have been part of a larger group of bandits. 

Niylah had told her that despite Lexa’s peacekeeping patrols, plenty of outcasts and renegades lived in the wilderness, although Clarke had never encountered trouble. But that had been before the Commander barged back into her life, she thought, a bitter snarl twisting her lips. And in her experience where Lexa went, trouble seemed to follow. 

The shelter came into view, the orange glow of the fire barely visible among the ruins. The wailing sound bounced off the crumbling walls and Clarke was reminded of the ghost stories her father used to read her when she was little. Back then he’d been the one to make sure no monsters lurked under her bed, but now it was up to her to check. 

She slowed to a brisk walk, stooping behind the cover of a half collapsed mound of bricks to set down the bundle and pull out her knife. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but even having her bow would not have made a difference. The moon had not risen yet and it was too dark to aim properly. 

Crouching low, Clarke edged towards the ebbing light of the fire, head swinging slowly as she scanned the area for danger. In her hyper-alerted state every shadow became a skulking enemy, every sigh of the wind a whisper of hard steel. In the few moments it took the Alpha to creep to the edge of the light, sweat began to drip in rivers down her back and turned her shirt to a drenched rag clinging to every inch of her back.

Her gaze found the heap of furs where she had laid Lexa to rest, and when she saw it was empty, a small gasp fell from her lips.

Movement flickered at the corner of her eye, and Clarke had only time enough to turn and raise the knife before a writhing shadow threw her to the ground. 

*****************

There was fire in her shoulder when she woke, a burning itch deep inside her flesh, as if someone had stuck coals under her skin, and they were smoldering inside her, slowly sinking into her muscles and melting her bones. Moving only made it worse, she discovered when she turned her head from side to side and a violent wave of nausea made her cough and dry heave noisily. 

She resigned herself to lay still with her eyes closed until the ground stopped bucking underneath her, exhaling in relief when the rolling of her stomach quieted. She lifted a hand carefully, a frown creasing her brow. There was a spot on her forehead that pained her, and when she poked at it experimentally, she let out a small yelp. 

Burrowing deeper under the furs, she whimpered again, and pouted with a huff when the noise brought no reaction. She had a hazy memory of a face hovering above hers, and deep blue eyes roving over her features carefully. And the scent… the scent had saturated her lungs, dulling the ache that incessantly gnawed at her bones. Even now it lingered faintly on the pelts. Pramstoka.  _ Her  _ Pramstoka. The skin of her throat smarted with the memory of teeth sweetly rending into her flesh and she raised a hand, tracing the jagged scar with a finger, mouth falling open against the pelts, as she tried to pull more of the Pram’s musk into herself. It was the smell of ocean’s brine and sunlight kissing skin, but laced with a colder scent that made her shiver uncomfortably. Still, it was not enough to satisfy her need, its traces dispersing quickly, mingling with smoke. 

So she opened her eyes, determined to find the scent’s source and pushed herself onto her elbows, panting with the effort. Pain coursed through her limbs and she forced herself to sit still, counting each gasped breath in the hopes it would help ease the agony searing her shoulder.

Once she could focus on her surroundings she let out a moan filled with despair. She was alone with a dying fire and the vastness of the night for her only company. 

Fear clutched her throat in a cruel fist at the thought her Pram would have just walked away and abandoned her. The realization had her wobble frenziedly to a crouch, and she inched towards the place where the shadows seemed to form a solid wall to bar her way, dragging a pelt with her, unwilling to leave the little comfort it offered behind. The more she neared the unknown darkness, the more her feet dragged, heart throbbing wildly. Who knew what things lurked inside that sea of blackness of which she couldn’t see an end, no matter how hard she gazed?

The wind moaned across the small space, causing the flames to roar high at her back for an instant, turning her own shadow into a hunched monster she didn’t recognize. She whimpered, a small, uncertain noise shaking with sudden fright and struggled with the pelt until she managed to wrap it more tightly around her shoulders. Her arm ached and burned, but all she cared about was feeling her Pram’s essence coil around her. She pined for the feeling of strong arms closing protectively around her, a haven against the terror rising inside her.  

Silence was disturbed by a quiet rustle, footsteps scraping on loose stone, and she fought for control with the memory of a sneering man poised to strike her down. In an instant it was gone though, and her next breath was full of her Pramstoka’s scent.

There was only time to glimpse an outline emerge hesitantly from the shadows and then she was lurching forward, needy whines tumbling from her lips. She staggered into the Pram’s chest and heard a loud grunt when their legs tangled, sending them crashing to the  ground in a twitching heap. 

Her shoulder screamed in protest at the rough jostling, but she didn’t care, scrabbling madly at the Pram’s front to find purchase.

Somehow she managed to worm her face into the crook of the Pramstoka’s neck, and she pressed her mouth to the warm skin, taking greedy gulps of the heavy musk she had been craving.

The mating bite on her neck burned, sending warm trails of heat throughout her blood. And she knew without having to be told that the scar would match this Pramstoka’s mouth perfectly, that the All-Mother had divined, before the ages were even set in stone, that this Pramstoka was hers, and she was the Pramstoka’s. This was the universal truth that she felt in every pulse of blood singing through her veins. She was meant to be with her Pramstoka.

She would recognize  _ her  _ by touch alone, if not by smell. She would know her blind, by the way her breath puffed and her heart beat and her feet had trod the earth as she approached. She would know her in death, suspended at the edge of the world. Her Pramstoka was engraved in her bones, scrimshawed inside her skull, their souls entwined together no matter where they went. 

She became aware of hands grasped her arms, trying to hold her still, and a voice rough and wooden called for her to be still.

“Stop it! Damn it Lexa, you are going to hurt yourself!  _ Stop _ !” 

She was dislodged firmly and whined when the Pramstoka pried her face from the safe, damp spot she had carved for herself against the woman’s neck. 

“Lexa look at me.” 

She did slowly, furrowing her brow as the senseless word echoed among her scattered thoughts. 

“Lexa?” The Pramstoka insisted, strange cracks appearing in her voice. 

She blinked, puzzled. There was something in the word that tickled at the edges of her mind and made her want to cover her ears but she wasn’t sure what it wat. Yet the Pramstoka kept saying it, calling it as if the woman was calling  _ her _ . 

But that wasn’t her name, was it?

*****************

Clarke’s teeth clicked shut as her back hit the ground with such force it jarred all of her bones. She lay stunned by the blow, breathing constricted by the weight settling onto her chest. It took only a moment longer for her to realize that the one who had crashed into her so suddenly was Lexa herself, and the blonde was relieved that the knife had been knocked out of her grasp before she had time to bring it down and stab the Commander by accident. 

A stabbing that the woman certainly deserved for what she had done to her, she thought bitterly. 

Clarke grunted as Lexa’s hands scrambled madly at the front of her jacket, fingers slipping on the worn leather without finding something to hold on to. The Alpha had just managed to grab one of her flailing arms when she felt Lexa’s face push into her neck, teeth scraping lightly at her pulse point. 

The blonde froze, breath coming in quick bursts, past surging forward, her body remembering a different night when they had been much in the same position and she had willingly offered her throat to the Omega’s questing lips. 

An inarticulate scream ripped from her throat, whether to drown the images with the sound or scare Lexa into pulling back she was not sure. Clarke tightened her hold on the Omega’s forearms, tendons jumping under her skin, and almost flung the brunette off her own body before she remembered the wounds.

Her other hand found Lexa’s arm and she held onto it firmly, trying not to hurt the brunette further. Clarke pushed back gradually, fighting every step of the way with the panic squeezing the breath out of her lungs, prying the Commander’s hands away from her clothes and shifting so that Lexa had no choice but to follow her movements and pull back from her neck.

“Lexa, look at me,” she cooed, trying to ignore the disappointed whine that slipped past the Omega’s lips at the lost contact, “look at me.” The blonde could taste her own heartbeat thumping at the back of her throat, making her teeth rattle. She wanted to scratch at the spot Lexa’s lips had brushed to erase the tingling they had left behind and speaking at all took an immense effort, bile sloshing sickeningly inside her stomach.

The brunette met her eyes slowly, suddenly lethargic as if even her gaze was too heavy to lift, and Clarke gasped, completely unprepared for what Lexa’s usually vibrant eyes harbored.

She had expected them to be shining with fever, which would explain the Omega’s behaviour, but their green was that kind of muted, tired hue that drying grass took during a drought.

And they held no recognition. 

A lump coalesced inside Clarke’s throat, and she had to take a shaky breath before she could speak again.

“Lexa?” The blonde tried one more time, knowing that it would not change the end result, but needing to be absolutely certain. The Omega tilted her head, a crease appearing on her forehead, the little confused sound that burst from her chest ending in a sharp yelp when the gash on her temple caused her pain.

The brunette’s body quivered with exhaustion and the evening’s unkind chill, so Clarke resolved to sift through the possible causes for the Commander’s current state once she had her safely back under the furs. 

“I am going to move you back under the blankets, ok?” She murmured, trying to keep her voice even. Still the words trembled on the tip of her tongue before leaving her mouth and Clarke realized she was scared by the vacant stare in the other girl’s eyes.  Every time their eyes met, the Alpha felt like the being staring back through Lexa’s eyes was a primal, regressed version of the Commander, one that did not care for anything past the basic instincts that led towards survival. 

The blonde sneered. She had been afraid of facing her former mate once she woke up, but this was somehow worse, perhaps because in this condition the brunette triggered Clarke’s most ingrained reactions. Her Alpha wanted to pull the Omega into the warmth of her own body, cuddle her close and let her scent soak into Lexa’s skin so that everyone would know that she belonged to Clarke. 

Except she didn’t. Lexa didn’t belong to her anymore, not since the Mountain, not since Lexa had turned her back upon Clarke, ignoring all of Clarke’s pleas, ignoring the tears that slipped down Clarke’s cheeks, ignoring the violent pulse of her mating mark as Clarke pleaded and begged. Lexa might still bear Clarke’s mating scar upon her neck, but it had been Lexa who had severed their connection first.

For a moment the Alpha was trapped in the raging battle within herself, and only when she heard the Omega whimper softly, she became aware of the rumbling growl that was filling the air between them. Her own scent had also changed, turning heavy and unbreathable with her anger. It made her nose wrinkle and when she looked at Lexa, Clarke saw that it was having an even bigger effect on the Omega. The brunette had bared her neck in submission, shaking in Clarke’s hold like a willow tree caught in a strong gale. 

“Hush,” Clarke let go of Lexa’s forearms and the brunette sunk back down onto her, this time managing to grasp the lapels of the Alpha’s jacket. The blonde let it slide, more concerned with getting Lexa tucked in for the moment, so that she would be free to think the situation through, “I’m not mad at you.”  But the lie was bitter on her tongue. 

She had spent some of her time  imagining what it would be like to face the Commander again, to face  _ her  _ again.  Sometimes Lexa had sent people to track her down and drag her back to Polis, kicking and screaming, to take Wanheda’s supposed power for herself. Other times Clarke had fantasized about freeing herself of the chains they had bound her with, spitting and cursing at the one who had hurt her so much right before closing her hands around Lexa’s throat.  And sometimes the images in her head flickered, and she was laying once again in Lexa’s arms, buried deep inside of the Omega, face pressed in the warmth of her neck. And Lexa whispered in her ear of how much Clarke would love Polis, promised all of the things she would show Clarke, share with Clarke. And those dreams were the hardest to endure, robbing her of her hate, leaving her drowning in the empty places between her ribs. 

But fate had robbed her of the opportunity, at least for the time being, and she couldn’t help but blame Lexa for it. The alternative lead to truths she was not ready to face, and her heart felt heavy with it. 

No, not Lexa, not the Omega. Clarke took a deep, steadying breath. Her patient. 

The blonde’s mind stilled, the storm waves that had sprung to life with Lexa’s appearance abating into nothingness. The Alpha took refuge in the clinical coolness of the medical profession she had studied under her mother’s tutelage, and she gathered the brunette in her arms, mind lingering on the fact that Lexa was so light because her body was using all of her reserves to heal her. 

Clarke nodded to herself with satisfaction when emotions remained distant, like far away clouds painting the horizon and she filed the information under the practical. Lexa needed food to get better, and judging by the sounds her own stomach was making, she needed it to stay upright and care for the brunette.   

She strode to the pelts quickly, back clenching as she cradled Lexa in her arms. The Alpha was glad that having to fend for herself in the wild had hardened her, and thankful for the time Niylah and her father. Six months ago she wouldn’t have been able to drag the litter so far, let alone carry the brunette even a short distance. 

The Omega seemed content to be taken back to bed, hands still grabbing the front of Clarke’s coat, face pressed into the fabric. 

Clarke set her down carefully, but when she tried to move Lexa’s hands away so that she could cover her, the brunette whined and shook her head, arms trembling with the effort of holding onto the Alpha’s clothing. 

The blonde cursed under her breath, but she didn’t want the Omega to struggle further and undo all the work she had put into tending her wounds. And Lexa’s body was icy cold, and getting sick on top of her wounds was the last thing the brunette needed. 

Having reached a decision, Clarke somehow managed to shrug off her coat, an inexplicable lump constricting her throat as she watched Lexa snuggle into it with a sigh. She pulled the pelts over her quickly, casting worried glances to the fire. 

The last of the flames licked weakly at what was left of the wooden logs she had fed them with before going to the river, and soon enough they would be left with smoldering ashes. She needed to recover the bundle she had brought back, and then prepare food. 

Slowly she stood, inching away from the Omega. “I’ll just be gone for a moment,” she murmured, not sure if her words were understood or not. The brunette blinked tiredly up at her before bringing Clarke’s coat to her nose and inhaling deeply. The blonde took it as a sign that she would be alright if left alone for a couple of minutes and slowly turned, walking outside to retrieve her things. She stopped every few paces to glance back at the Omega, but the older girl seemed completely engrossed with her jacket, cuddling with it under the furs. 

Outside the moon had risen, its silvery light bathing the ruins around her and making it easier for Clarke to retrace her steps and recover what she had brought from the riverbank. If she hadn’t been so worried with food and the fire, she would have stopped to savor the night, pale moonlight giving the forest around her a dream-like feel. Instead she shivered, as the wind picked up, sliding like a cold blade along her spine, and cursed softly, wishing she hadn’t surrendered her jacket so easily. 

But that had been the thing with Lexa from the beginning, how easy it was for Clarke to surrender, to forget the natural supremacy of an Alpha and let herself soften for the green-eyed Omega that had built a home inside her heart. It had not mattered until it had, when Lexa had torn down her place inside of Clarke with every step she took away from the fight at Mount Weather.

Relief lessened the wave of bitterness swelling inside her, as she stepped back inside her refuge, finding the Omega exactly as she had left her. If all it took to keep Lexa quiet was something of hers she’d trade her a shirt for the jacket, the Alpha thought with a small grimace. 

She revived the fire before doing anything else, hands reaching towards the flames eagerly as she soaked in a bit of the heat, then she rummaged through her pack and found a shirt that she judged held enough of her scent to satisfy the Omega. The way Lexa kept pressing her nose into the worn fabric and leather of her jacket hadn’t gone unnoticed and Clarke presumed her instincts were leading the injured Omega to seek comfort in her scent. Lexa would have reacted the same way with any other Alpha, she told herself, ignoring the small voice that worried at the edge of her mind, telling her that Lexa had clutched at her jacket because it held  _ her _ scent. 

She approached the Omega again, holding the shirt out enticingly.

“Look what I have here Lexa,” she whispered softly, offering the shirt to the Omega, “can I have my jacket back please?”

She stilled completely, watching the brunette’s gaze lift to meet hers before focusing on what was in her hand. A frown creased the Omega’s brow and her nostrils flared as she sniffed the shirt cautiously. 

“It’s softer than the jacket,” Clarke cooed, feeling slightly ridiculous, “see?” She ever so slowly placed the shirt next to Lexa’s head and the Omega hesitantly nuzzled into it with a soft whimper. Encouraged, Clarke gently pressed the cloth against the brunette’s cheek, rubbing softly through the fabric, and Lexa’s fingers slowly unclenched as she let go of the jacket she had been desperately clutching.

“Thank God.” Clarke snatched her jacket off the furs and shrugged into it hurriedly, fastening the buttons. Despite the added layer of clothing she kept shivering, and moved towards the fire again, busying herself with warming water for tea and cleaning up the edible mushrooms and roots she had gathered on her foray, to prepare a stew that would hopefully warm both of them up.

The Alpha could feel Lexa’s heavy gaze following her around the small encampment as she gathered everything she’d need to cook. It left a trail of warmth upon her frame, one that reminded her of stolen looks and lingering stares during war councils what felt like a lifetime ago. She wanted to yell at the Omega to look away, growl at her until she cowered under the furs, but as she met one of Lexa’s stares with a frown of her own, her anger died and tears stung her eyes. Lexa’s eyes were wide, green pools devoid of light, and whenever they moved away from Clarke, the brunette looked utterly lost, untethered. Invariably Lexa’s gaze would drift back to rest on her and the Omega would blink a few times, as if trying to reassure herself that Clarke was really there and hadn’t left again.

“But I wasn’t the one who left in the first place,” she muttered, scrubbing angrily at her eyes. She brought her gaze stubbornly down to concentrate on the food she was preparing, but her hands shook so much she cut herself, the knife’s blade opening a bleeding line along her thumb.

“Shkrish.” She dropped the knife and brought her injured finger to her mouth, sucking on it reflexively. Her eyes shot upwards when she heard a rustle and a distressed noise coming from the furs. Lexa had bolted up and was half out of the bedding, staring at the blood on her hand as if transfixed. 

“It’s nothing.” Clarke said comfortingly, mind reeling at the Omega’s reaction. It almost looked like Lexa had felt her pain, but that was impossible since their connection had been severed. 

Unless the Outcast woman had lied to her. 

But she couldn’t  _ feel _ Lexa and had been unable to since the Severing, so that much at least had been true. And what did it matter in the end if the Omega still felt Clarke’s pain? It served her right for what she’d done to Clarke. 

Her bitterness left her aching and hollow, and she was unable to find any comfort in it. Her anger had kept her warm on many a cold night, but now, finally faced with Lexa again, she had trouble reviving the fire of her anger. And this Lexa….this Lexa was not the Lexa she remembered. She didn’t know what to think about this Lexa, because the Lexa snuggling into her shirt, burying her face into the soft fabric, whirring gently in her chest; seemed more like a stranger than the woman she’d loved. 

She took care of the cut quickly, then went back to cooking and soon enough the roots and mushrooms were boiling in hot water with a pinch of salt from her supplies. As she watched the food, alternating between stirring the soup so it would not stick to the small pot she had set up on the fire and glancing at Lexa, she took some time to think things through.

The Omega had settled back into the furs, evidently calmed down at having seen her take care of the cut so quickly and was nuzzling the blonde’s shirt with small, happy whirrs. 

Clarke had never treated a patient with amnesia before, and despite knowing that blows to the head could cause it, she wasn’t sure that was the source of Lexa’s behaviour. Her mother’s voice echoed inside her skull, and she recalled a frightful day in the med bay, when guards had dragged a feral Alpha in for treatment. It had taken three men and a dozen shock lashes before they could strap the trashing patient onto a gurney so that Abby could treat him, and the chief doctor had explained to Clarke about feral states and how to intervene. She had admired her mother’s cool behaviour back then, as she approached the slavering Alpha without fear to pump drugs into his system, and then the blonde had watched with a mixture of revulsion and curiosity as he slowly slid into unconsciousness. He had scared her, with his rolling eyes that showed all the white and foam dripping down his chin, flecked with blood from where he’d mauled his own lip. It had taken them weeks to get him back, and the Council authorized it only because he was one of their best engineers. A common worker would have been beaten into submission and floated. 

Clarke had wondered out loud if Omegas could suffer the same thing, and Abby had replied that feral Omegas were different. They regressed to pure instinct, that manifested in neediness instead of aggression, craving almost constant contact and comfort from someone they identified as safe, someone that would protect them.

Her eyes met Lexa’s and she grunted, mouth souring at the prospect and appetite fleeing. Her mother had added that Omegas usually slipped into that state due to trauma and another shock to the system could bring them out of it, but the Alpha wasn’t about to hit Lexa with another rock just to test that theory.

Clarke sighed, thoughts starting to drag with tiredness, then spooned out a portion of the soup for Lexa. All she could do was wait and pray that the brunette was going to snap out of it on her own. 

The Alpha could not remember when exactly she’d stopped thinking of walking away from the Commander, no matter how hard she tried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As she continues to care for Lexa, Clarke grows more and more conflicted - and when she will finally succumb to sleep a lot of the things she tried to forget will come back to her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Sorry the wait was a bit longer than anticipated, but life got quite busy.
> 
> We hope you enjoy!

As she carefully half-filled a small wooden bowl with broth and a few pieces of mushrooms, her stomach grumbled and Clarke grunted a bit sourly, pushing the thought of food away with the knowledge that it was best she made sure Lexa eat first. A full stomach would hopefully help the Omega - her patient, damn it! - to settle down, and allow Clarke to do the few things that needed tending to before sleep without being interrupted.  At least that was what she told herself, refusing to acknowledge that her every instinct demanded that she feed and care for  _ her  _ Omega. Her lips twisted into a silent snarl. She no longer had an Omega. Lexa wasn't her’s. She needed to remember that above all else. She didn’t  _ want  _ Lexa. 

It was a half-truth at best.

She stood slowly, balancing the bowl in one hand while pulling the pot away from the fire, so that the rest of the food wouldn’t burn. She used a clean rag to cover it, and left it close enough to the flames that it would remain warm enough for her to eat without sticking to the metal of the pot. 

Lexa watched her approach, slowly lowering the shirt from her face, nose twitching at the smell of food. Clarke knew that the soup wasn’t all that nutritious, and that she’d have to possibly go hunting as well as lay snares, but that was a worry for the days to come, since she didn’t think she could leave Lexa alone for a couple of hours just yet. 

The simple fact that just by being there, the Omega restricted her freedom bothered Clarke to no end, rubbing like sawdust underneath her skin, and she grit her teeth trying to still the low growl she felt shaking between her ribs. 

For six months she had been absolute mistress of her own time, going wherever her feet took her, whenever she wanted. Clarke had gotten used to the absence of people far more easily than she had first anticipated, relishing how no one was there to look to her for guidance. She had grown accustomed to the fact that nobody relied on her, and Lexa’s crashing into her life again was a cruel reminder that, despite her attempt at isolating herself, the world marched on and sooner or later it’d drag her along by the scruff of her neck.

Speculation about the Azgeda warrior she had killed flitted through her mind, and Clarke stubbornly pushed it away, deep into the black sea of her thoughts as if she was drowning it, at least for the remainder of the night. She didn’t want to dwell on what it could mean that one of Lexa’s supposed allies had turned on her, both for the Trikru and Clarke’s own people back in Arkadia, telling herself she didn’t care one bit about what it meant for the Commander herself. But it was far easier to dismiss the lone warrior as a bandit, like the ones she’d heard about and never ran into. 

And yet Lexa had already been wounded when she’d crashed through those bushes and to Clarke that meant there had been more than one Azgeda warrior. The one she’d killed hadn’t carried a bow. 

She shook her head and walked across the small camp, crouching next to the Omega without stepping into the brunette’s space.

“I made you food, see?” Clarke titled the bowl a little, so that Lexa could see for herself. The brunette leaned forward, sniffing at the steaming broth with a small frown, before raising her gaze to Clarke’s. 

“What? It’s good!” The Alpha repressed an exasperated sigh and spooned a mouthful of the soup into her own mouth, cursing when the scalding liquid burned the tip of her tongue. A sound that could have been described as a small snort came from Lexa and Clarke rolled her eyes at the brunette, blowing to cool the soup before trying to sample it again. Admittedly it wasn’t the best thing she’d ever managed to cook, but it was edible and above all  _ hot _ . 

The wind had picked up again outside their shelter and blades of cold air sliced through the small space, making the fire hiss and sputter.

“See?” She made a show of licking he lips for good measure, inwardly glaring at Lexa for making her have to act like a fool. It’s good.” 

At least nobody was there to watch.

Clarke inched closer, knowing that the Omega wouldn’t be able to hold both the bowl and the spoon with an injured arm, and that everything would go much quicker if the blonde just fed her. 

She spooned out more soup and held the spoon close to Lexa’s mouth, but to her dismay the Omega turned her head away like a petulant child. 

“Lexa,” the name fell off her lips edged in warning, echoing inside her skull as she remembered saying it for entirely different reasons, “you need to eat to get better, and we’re both tired. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

For a moment all was still, Clarke’s arm beginning to cramp with the awkward position, the reins she’d managed to place on her irritation rapidly fraying. Lexa didn’t shift, but there was a change of light in her eyes, the hint of a gaze directed towards Clarke’s lap, before the brunette’s green orbs travelled back to the bowl of food, coming to rest on the Alpha’s face. 

Up close her eyes shimmered in the low light, all the different hues of the forest trapped within their depths, and Clarke resented that - despite the way Heda had torn her heart to pieces - she still could steal her breath away with a simple stare.

There was a difference in the way Lexa looked at her, she noted, - not recognition, no, but a spark that hadn’t been there before, a touch of something hopeful. Clarke recognized it in the brightened hue of the brunette’s eyes, which now held a hint of the tender green of newborn grass, poking through the last shreds of snow in the first days of spring. She thought back at what her mother had said about feral Omegas, and how they sought comfort from someone they thought safe, and the look that Lexa had shot at her lap, not exactly direct, but slanted and sneaky as if she was torn between yearning and the fear of being caught, suddenly made sense.

“No,” the Alpha shook her head, her whole body shrinking back before she could stop herself, stomach heaving, the one sip of soup she’d taken burning up her throat. It wasn’t touching Lexa she had a problem with, but what the Omega instinctively wanted was different than the detached brush of fingers against flesh as one sewed up a wound. The last time Clarke had held Lexa in her arms to give and receive comfort, had been the night they’d bonded. Their bodies had been pervaded by the lassitude of aftersex, skin bitten and scratched during lovemaking, hearts racing together as if they never meant to stop, and Clarke had thought her whole life had been aimed at achieving that moment of perfect completion. 

But the ground had been yanked from underneath her feet the very next day. 

Allowing Lexa to sit on her lap as she fed her, allowing herself to be so close to the one who had been her mate was something Clarke wasn’t ready to do - and that thought had her frown, flabbergasted that her own mind would even admit the possibility. She found herself trapped in an impasse, obviously not willing to give in to the Omega’s silent demand, yet needing her to eat. 

She became aware of a burning sensation on the back of her hand and realized that some of the broth had spilled when she had jerked away. Luckily for Clarke, the liquid, while still hot enough to cause discomfort, was not scalding to the point of injury.  She shifted with a sigh, exasperation mixed with defeat and relented a fraction. 

“I’ll sit next to you.” She announced, not waiting for Lexa reaction before plopping down on the furs, legs aching from having crouched for so long. 

The brunette inched closer, hesitantly brushing against Clarke’s side, then leaning into her more firmly once she came to the conclusion the Alpha wouldn’t pull back. 

Spoonfeeding Lexa like that was awkward, and it took a few curses from Clarke and a bit of broth dripping down the brunette’s chin, before they established a rhythm. Having mostly gotten what she wanted, Lexa ate in silence, getting almost to the end of the bowl of soup before her head began to droop on Clarke’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as she slid gently towards slumber, just as the Alpha had hoped.

Clarke quickly put the empty bowl to the side, hands going to Lexa’s shoulders helping the brunette down on the furs as gently as she could. Lexa’s fingers tightened around a fistful of her jacket for an instant, the Omega mumbling incoherently before she settled down into the pelts, hold slackening as sleep deepened. Clarke lingered until she was sure her patient wouldn’t stir awake, before gathering the bowl and moving back to the fire. 

She added more wood to the flames, then spooned out a portion of the soup for herself, settling down to eat cross-legged on the bare ground, hoping that the chill seeping into her rear from the hard packed earth floor would keep her alert long enough to finish what she had to before she fell asleep. 

She was more tired than hungry at this point, but forced herself to eat, bringing mouthfuls of soup to her mouth mechanically, while her mind and her eyes strayed to the slumbering form across the fire. 

Asleep Lexa looked almost peaceful, the lines that pain had dug into her brow easing away as her body gave into exhaustion. Hopefully food and rest would help her heal quickly, and the Alpha began to make plans in her head as she finished eating - when to visit Niylah for supplies, when to hunt - taking into account that once Lexa was well enough to travel they may have to move camp. 

Clarke didn’t like to use the same camping spot for long anyway, trying to switch between the few she had established for herself in that part of the woods and never spending the same number of days in one spot. She had not forgotten Bren’s words, and sometimes during her visits at the outposts Niylah told her of warriors from Trikru and other clans, passing by and inquiring about Wanheda’s whereabouts. 

Those types of visits had dwindled as the months passed - as if slowly people had been giving up on finding her to take her power and started to forget her - but some still came, and Clarke always took extra care to approach the trading post only when she was sure that no strangers were inside.  

Once she was done eating, Clarke put the empty bowl aside - she’d wash it in the morning when she’d go for water - and recovered a few snares from her pack, picking up a piece of wood to use as a torch and quietly moving into the shadows around the camp, stopping every few steps to glance back at Lexa. 

The Omega seemed fast asleep and the blonde quickened her step, careful not to twist an ankle on the uneven ground, the torch giving off barely enough light to outline the contours of the land in front of her. She had spotted a few rabbit tracks on her way to the river and cursed herself for a fool for not having thought about laying traps when there was still light to see by. 

As it was she had to trust her nose more than her eyes, and she placed a few of the snares around camp, but far enough from it that human presence wouldn’t scare away the prey she was trying to catch. 

With that task done she retraced her steps, shoulders sagging in relief when she found Lexa exactly as she had left her - really buried even further under her furs - and she rid herself of the guttering torch, throwing the splinter of wood into the fire. 

Clarke wrapped a spare pelt around her shoulders and settled down, back against one of the shelter’s crumbling walls. She gathered her knees to her chest, resting her chin atop them with a weary sigh, eyes grainy with sleep. 

She wanted to give in and rest, but a sliver of fear - lodged like a painful splinter into her heart- had her jerk her head up and shake herself out every time her eyelids began to droop. 

The Alpha was afraid. To sleep, and dream of the woman across the fire, and how things used to be between them. 

And she hated her treacherous, bastard, heart for thumping fast with longing at the thought, for harboring the hope that things could be like that again. 

But sleep had a way of sneaking up on the weary and Clarke nodded off despite her efforts, the hurt burning inside her chest cooling down to embers as her mind drifted towards the secret parts of her she kept under lock and key when she was awake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think?

**Author's Note:**

> So, thoughts so far?


End file.
